Canary Creams: The Perfect Way Out of a Sticky Situation
by sunne
Summary: Angelina is angry, really angry. Fred is, well Fred. Written for Finals Round 2 of the QLFC.


**Author's Note:** I am the Seeker for the Falmouth Falcons. This is written for Finals Round 2 of the QLFC. My prompt is: endorsing Fred and George's product, Canary Creams

Canary Creams: The Perfect Way Out of a Sticky Situation

Angelina Johnson strode down the corridor like a storm, braided hair flying behind her and a ferocious snarl on her face. In her hand, she held a crumpled piece of parchment. "Fred Weasley! When I get my hands on you, you're going to regret ever being born!"

Students packed the hallway, a First Year Transfiguration class having just let out. At the sight of Angelina, they scurried to the edges of the hallway, eyes wide and frightened. As Angelina passed, the First Years converged back together and watched as the tall Sixth Year turned a corner.

When Angelina came to the portrait of the Fat Lady, she gave the password, and nearly ripped the painting from its frame in the process of entering. The Fat Lady gave a start, hand fluttering to her chest, and set about lecturing Angelina on proper ladylike behavior. However, her words landed on empty air.

The Common Room was half full, the Third Years having a free period early in the afternoon. When the portrait door slammed shut, they jumped and turned around.

Grinding her teeth together, Angelina clenched her fists. "Where is Fred Weasley?"

There was a moment's pause as the Third Years glanced between each other, trepidation written across their faces.

Finally, a short girl pointed at the stairs. "He went up there a few moments ago."

"Thank you," Angelina said. The younger girl sat back down, her eyes trailing behind Angelina.

As Angelina climbed the stairs two at a time, the girl leaned over to her friend. "She's scary when she gets like that."

Her friend nodded. "I feel sorry for Weasley."

The Sixth Year boy's dormitory was nearly at the top of the stairs, and when Angelina came upon it, she banged her fist on the door.

"I know you're in there, Fred, so there's no use hiding!" The parchment in her hand crumpled further as she tightened her fist.

Muffled voices came from the other side of the door, words indistinguishable.

She pounded again on the door. "I can hear you!"

"Hey, Ange."

She turned just as Lee Jordan reached the landing. "Hey, Lee."

"What'd he do now?" Amusement danced in Lee's eyes.

Angelina held up the remains of the parchment. She un-crumpled the parchment and thrusted it into Lee's hands. "Look at it!"

Lee took the wrinkled parchment and skimmed the lines of poetry. "What is this?" He laughed.

"His idea of a joke."

"It doesn't even rhyme." Shaking his head, Lee laughed and handed the parchment back to Angelina.

"You think this is funny," she said as Lee unlocked the door.

She pushed past him as soon as the door was open. "Fred!"

"Oh, hi, Ange." George rose from his bed, his grin a meter wide. "How are you this fine afternoon?"

Angelina gave him a dirty look and folded her arms. "George, that doesn't work on me anymore. Where is your brother?"

George shook his head, eyes wide in a play of innocence. "I don't know what you're talking about, my love."

Holding up the parchment, she pushed it in his face. "Are you telling me you're responsible for this?"

Deflating as he read the poetry, he took a step back. "Oh, right, that," he said, turning to the open doorway that lead to their bathroom and shouted for his brother.

Fred appeared in the doorway, arms held out towards Angelina. "Angelina Bambelina! My love," he said.

Anger thundered through her. "I told you to _never_ call me that." She held up the parchment. "What is this?"

"Oh, that?"

"Yes, this." She waved the parchment in front of his face. "What else would I be talking about?"

Fred reached out and took the parchment. He read the poetry he had written and looked up at her. "You didn't like it?"

"Like it? You're asking me if I _liked_ it?" She flung her arms out in exasperation. "You're breaking up with me!"

"Oh," Fred said, looking at the poetry again. He frowned and bit his lip. "Right. I suppose I technically—"

"What is _wrong_ with you?" She couldn't believe the audacity of the guy standing in front of her. Rage filled her like a balloon, pushing against her with ever increasing intensity. "Who breaks up with someone via owl post?"

"Oh, no, I was—"

"And poetry?"

"I mean—"

"You used _poetry_ to break up with me?"

Angelina had backed Fred into a corner, his brother and Lee watching on with amusement. Fred glanced to his brother for help, but George grinned and shook his head. Angelina gestured wildly, the parchment flying out of her hand and fluttering to the ground. She screamed and shouted so intensely that when Kenneth Towler entered the dormitory, knapsack over his shoulder, he took one look at Angelina and backed quietly out of the room.

"—and really, Fred, if you wanted to break up with me, you could have just—" Angelina stopped and took a step back as Fred crammed something in his mouth and turned into a giant canary.

Mouth open, Angelina stared at him. "You did _not_ just do that."

Behind her, George laughed. "Canary Creams: when you want to avoid a sticky situation, just turn into a huge bird."

The canary chirped, wings flapping. Angelina looked between George and Fred and folded her arms.

"It's Wednesday, Ange," George said, as if that should explain her current situation.

"So?"

"Wednesday is backwards day."

Beside George, Lee snorted. When Angelina turned her attention to him, he held up his hands. "I didn't have anything to do with this, I swear."

She shook her head in confusion. Angelina had known the Weasley Twins for years and had become accustomed to their shenanigans, but this was something else.

"He isn't breaking up with you," George explained. "He was professing his undying love to you."

The canary's feathers began to molt.

"Well, when he's done being a chicken—"

"Canary," George said.

Angelina waved her hand at him. "Whatever," she said. "When he's done with this—" She gestured to Fred. "—he can come find me."

Turning, she pushed through the door, letting it slam shut. The dormitory was left in silence for a moment before Fred finished molting and returned to his human form.

"So, she didn't like my poetry?" he asked his brother.


End file.
